


sweet and shaggy

by FeverAndRemedy



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Artist!Steve, Fluff, M/M, Modern AU, Skinny!Steve, Steve has a dog, and she's obsessed with Bucky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 15:20:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17062229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeverAndRemedy/pseuds/FeverAndRemedy
Summary: joyful, joyful joyfulas only dogs know how to be happywith only the autonomyof their shameless spirit.- pablo neruda.





	sweet and shaggy

**Author's Note:**

> something... happens.

_Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt._

Steve knows that sound. Oh, he’s all too familiar with it. _Bzzzt._ That repetitive vibration. _Bzzzt._ The inevitable epilogue; the destroyer of dreams, great Waker of Boys. _Bzzzt._

That would be the sound of his phone vibrating against his bedside table. Steve cracks his eyes open and is greeted with harsh afternoon light. Ugh, he’d only meant to nap for an hour. The flip clock screensaver on his laptop across the room tells him it’s almost 4 pm, and part of him wants to roll back over and keep sleeping, but if he’s going to cook dinner, he needs to get up. _Bzzzt._

Oh yeah, plus his phone is still going off.

Steve reaches out and picks up his phone; the screen displays a blurry picture of Sam Wilson looking less than enthused, with the name “Sam” at the top, accompanied an eagle emoji. A sigh deflates his lungs and he unlocks his phone with his thumb, bringing it to his ear.

“Hello?” Steve asks groggily.

“I’ve been knocking on your door for like five minutes,” Sam gets right to the point. “Are you taking a nap?”

“No, I’m out partying,” Steve says it sarcastically, but part of him wants to know if Sam would ever actually buy it.

“Ha, ha,” Sam feigns laughter. “Get your skinny white butt out of bed and unlock your door. I’m surprised Rosie isn’t throwing a fit.”

“Okay, okay,” Steve hangs up the phone with a bit of a laugh and throws himself out of bed, a little surprised not to see Rosie on the floor. If she thinks she can get away with lying on the couch, she has another thing coming. Steve shivers a bit and grabs the hoodie sitting on the back of his desk chair, shrugging it on along with a pair of socks he’d left on the floor. Out in the living room, he doesn’t see Rosie’s familiar shape on the couch. She hasn’t slept in the bathroom since she was a puppy, but Steven wouldn’t put it above her.

With a little confusion as to where the hell his dog is, he opens the door to see Sam standing there in a leather jacket. Sam and Steve have only been friends for a few years, but Steve is immensely grateful that they get along so well. They were roommates once when they lived in an admittedly worse apartment complex, but when their third roommate moved out, they looked for other options. A change of scenery was desperately needed. So now, they’re neighbors, as in, Sam lives literally right next door. Steve has to admit, it’s nice having someone close by he can rely on, especially since Nat moved to the swankier side of town (not that she won’t be there in an instant if he ever needs anything).

Steve’s eyes drift curiously to the brown bag that Sam has in his hand, but the smell gives it away.

“Is that-”

“I went to Potbelly,” Sam says matter-of-factly, letting himself in with a smile and heading for the counter. Steve closes the door and follows him. Of course Sam went to Potbelly - their love of the sandwich shop is just one of many things they bond over.

Sam digs into the bag and pulls out a long sandwich wrapped in paper. He sets it on the counter top towards Steve.

“One vegetarian sandwich for you,” he says.

“Oh, what! Sam, you didn’t have to get me anything,” Steve says, the happy glint in his eyes betraying his words.

“You covered me at Hungry Ghost last time,” Sam says as he unwraps his own sandwich and takes a bite, “so I’m just paying my dues.” He pulls out a napkin from the bag and wipes the corner of his mouth. Steve can never understand how Sam just eats standing up sometimes.

“Where’s Rosie? Thought she would have smelled Potbelly a mile away,” Sam asks.

“Yeah, that’s weird,” Steve hums, pushing away from the counter. “I thought she was around here somewhere.”

He peeks around the furniture in his living room, but doesn’t catch sight of Rosie’s golden coat. A familiar sense of dread is beginning to rise in his chest. It feels like a cold grip closing around his heart. It’s just an apartment, how far can she get? It’s not like someone broke in and stole his dog. Steve heads into his bedroom, but doesn’t find her anywhere. Then, he goes into the bathroom with the hope that she’s in there on the cool tile. But she isn’t.

“Steve!” he hears Sam’s voice coming from the living room and heads towards it, anxiety now spiking. A familiar wave of nausea rises like ice in his throat as he steps into the living room to see Sam standing in the open doorway of the back door.

You see, Steve’s apartment had a connected living room and kitchen space. Where the living room ends, there’s a big wall with a door to a little patio outside. Steve happens to live on the first floor, so the street isn’t too far from this back door. He stands there in a stupor trying to piece it together.

“Please tell me that wasn’t open,” Steve deadpans.

“It was open,” Sam says, and Steve’s heart drops into his stomach.

At this point, he doesn’t even remember if he left it open or if Rosie has ever opened doors before, or if she would even travel far, or how long has it been open. He’s beginning to close in on himself. He braces himself against a chair in his living room, and Sam is at his side instantly.

“Hey man,” he starts saying to Steve, his hand on Steve’s shoulder, “she has your address and number on her collar. She can’t have gone that far, you know she doesn’t normally leave your side.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says. “We should get out there, though, right? At least check?”

“Let’s do it, man,” Sam is all action, and Steve can’t be thankful enough that Sam has gotten so skilled at re-centering him. “I’ll grab some of her treats, let’s hit the streets. I can call Nat if you want?”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve feels like he’s on autopilot as he toes into his shoes. He grabs his phone and his keys and tries to calm himself down.

It’s 4:30 pm on a Friday in New York City, and his three-year-old golden retriever has escaped.

**Author's Note:**

> that's chapter one. i haven't written a fic in a while but please have faith in me. thanks!


End file.
